Chapter Text
Rookies
September
Kansas City, Kansas, USA
NHL Prospects Challenge—Championship Game
“We're sitting here waiting for the final championship game of the NHL Prospects Challenge starring, of course, the San Diego Gulls and the Kansas City Scouts. And with these teams comes likely the most perceived prospects of the season. I'm talking about Kansas's Wallace West and San Diego's Kyle Rayner.
“First up, Wally West. Now, what makes him such a great player is his speed, hockey IQ, and natural athleticism that is likely helped by his uncle Barry Allen, four-time Olympic champion. Great under pressure, makes quick decisions even under fire, and, of course, you've gotta love his sociability and way of just having fun and loving the game.
“And California's sunny beaches give us a hell of a player with Kyle as well. He may not be nearly as quick as Wally, but he certainly makes up for it with his levelheadedness and ability to think completely outside the box with brilliant strategies even during stressful games such as this one.”
“Well, Phineas, who do you really have your eye on for this game?”
“It’s tough to say, Danny, both teams are looking fantastic this season. Especially with these two prospects on the ice against each other, anything could happen.”
A camera was pushed into Wally’s face. A microphone followed. “West, what do you think the odds are that the Scouts will win?”
“A million. The odds are a million, baby.” His grin was wide and sparkling, eyes just the same. “The team is pumped, and I'm freakin’ pumped, and we’re gonna win the damn challenge, and then we’re gonna party, party, party.”
“Well, that's quite the enthusiasm, as expected from you, West,” the reporter added with a smirk, adjusting her hand around the microphone. “I take it you’re excited for this game?”
“Hell yeah, I’m excited—excited to win!” He leaned into the camera with a wide, cocky grin, pointing a finger at the lens. “And I’m excited to beat that Kyle Rayner guy. Do people really think he's better than me? No way! I could beat his ass any day of the week.”
At the very same time, a different reporter was in the face of Kyle Rayner. “How do you feel about the upcoming game, Rayner?”
“I’m feeling good.” He nodded, swallowing. “Of course, this is gonna be a tough game. But nothing we can’t handle, I’m sure. The Gulls are not… y'know. Cowards. We won’t be dissuaded by the Scouts.”
“You’re confident, then?”
“Of course.”
“What about your going against Wally West, who some are calling ‘the only player who can realistically rival’ you?”
“Oh, please.” Kyle rolled his eyes, huffing a soft breath. “Sure, he’s fast and smart, but I’m smarter. Maybe he could rival me, but, come on. We all know who’d win.”
The game had gone into overtime with a score of 4-4, the spectators’ legs bouncing and their fists curled tight, eyes never taken off the players. In the end, the final point was scored with only a few seconds left.
“A heartbreaking loss for the boys over in San Diego, but a simply fantastic win for the Scouts—I mean, wow, what a game!” The announcer, Danny, laughed as he spoke, thrilled. “I bet West and the rest of the team are simply overjoyed at this win. Why don’t we hear from them now, huh, Francine?”
The reporter stood with a wide grin beside Wally and the rest of the team, a blob of red and yellow uniforms jumping up and down with utter joy.
“That is what I am talking about!” Wally yelled, celebrating in jump and playful aggression along with his team, “Hell yes! What’d I say, what’d I say?! I said ‘a million’! A goddamn million! The Gulls and Kyle Rayner don’t have shit on us! He can suck. my—”
“Well,” the reporter interrupted with an amused breath, “you heard it here first, hockey fans, the Kansas City Scouts victorious against San Diego's Gulls for the NHL Prospects Challenge here in their home rink in the heart of Kansas City, Kansas, USA. As heard from my pre-game report, the Scouts’ players are leaving the ice to—”
“Party, party, party!” There was a roar from the players after Wally’s repeated exclamation.
The reporter laughed softly, and continued on. “‘Party, party, party.’ I’m sure the Gulls will be doing much less than that.”
Kyle sat on the edge of the hotel bed, head held over his open legs. He let out a long breath. “...Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his palm over his face. He stood up. His phone buzzed, and he opened it. Hal. God, that old man was gonna be pissed. He answered hesitantly. “... Hey.”
“Hey.”
There was a long pause. They both started to speak at the same time, but Kyle let Hal go first, holding his breath in anticipation for a scolding.
“It was a good game, Kyle. Don't beat yourself up. Get a good sleep, and get to practice in the morning. Keep drinking water. Yeah?”
His eyes widened, relieved but somewhat paranoid. “... Right. Yeah. Water. Practice. Sleep.”
“Wrong order, kid. Sleep, then practice. Hear me? Don't go to the gym right now. Don't do any drills. Go to sleep.”
“... Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I got it. Sleep, practice, water.”
“Good. You did good. I mean it, don't stay up all night. Go to bed.”
“Alright, alright.”
“Alright. Be smart. I know you can be. Goodnight, Kyle.”
“Night, Hal.” He hung up the phone and let it fall onto the bed. He paced at the foot of it, staring at the floor and letting out a long, sharp breath. “... Oh, boy.”
He went to bed like Hal instructed. But it didn't last very long. He ended up grabbing his gear and heading to the gym.
Wally had indeed partied. Strippers, non-stripper girls. non-girl strippers, food, dancing, drinks, coke, everything that made up a celebration. When he got back to the hotel the team was staying in, he was exhausted. But happy. Oh, very happy. He sat on the bed after a shower and turned on the TV, trying to see what they were saying about him. Trying to fill his ego to the brink and let it flow over.
‘Perfect’, ‘utterly captivating’, ‘possibly one of the best players the league has seen in years’, and let's not forget ‘handsome’. And ‘we shouldn't forget about Kyle Rayner just yet’.
He paused at that one. Sitting forward with his elbows on his knees and staring at the sports reporter with deeply furrowed brows, Wally listened.
“Of course, we all saw the game. The Scouts won, but come on. The Gulls were this close to beating them. One slip up from Wally West, and Kyle Rayner will take the lead. Rayner has phenomenal stats with such immensely impressive performance rates that it would be impossible for West to stay on top for—”
The TV shut off. The bedroom was dark now, lit only by a small lamp and the city lights outside the window. “... Fuck.”
He got up and grabbed his stuff, already heading to the gym.
And there was Kyle Rayner, already there. Wally groaned, standing in the doorway. Kyle was on the exercise bike. Which was his warmup. That's what he wanted to do. Wally bit his tongue and walked over, dropping his stuff loud enough that Kyle would hear it over his ear buds and look up at him. And he did.
Those eyes, goddamn.
Wally hadn't really seen them in person, out of the helmet before. Kind of… soft. Like a puppy.
Wally got on the bike to the left of Kyle and started his warmup. “Is that all you got?” He smirked, glancing at Kyle. “No wonder you're in second place.”
Kyle huffed and went back to cycling.
“Come on. You know I'm right.” Wally kept that easy smirk on his befreckled face. So many freckles. They made him look warm, somehow. “I beat you tonight. Wally West over Kyle Rayner.”
“I thought you were gonna be out partying.”
“I was partying. Celebrating the win. Not that you get to do that very often.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Uhh…,” Wally trailed off, looking at him with furrowed brows. He gestured to the gym. “Working out?”
Kyle scoffed. “Yeah, I obviously meant why.”
“Well, then, you should have asked why.”
“Alright, then, why?”
“Because winners don't rest, Rayner.” Wally smirked again, looking over at him. “And neither do losers, I guess, or you wouldn't be here.”
“I think,” Kyle started, panting lightly now, “it's because you know that if you do rest, they'll stop talking about you, and they'll start talking about me.”
Wally's brows furrowed just slightly. “Oh, you think so?”
“I do.”
Wally rolled his eyes and started pedaling faster. Kyle followed with speed just slightly over his.
Wally sped up.
Kyle sped up.
Wally sped up.
Kyle sped up.
Wally sped up.
Kyle sped up.
They didn't stop until Wally's foot flew off the pedal and his thigh smacked into the handlebars. He winced loudly, putting his hand on the red spot. Kyle snickered at him, a light sweat dampening his forehead.
Wally glared in return, huffing. He was quiet for a while. “... I’m faster than you.”
“But dumb enough to hurt yourself.”
“That's part of life, Rayner,” Wally argued, rolling his eyes as he started off of the bike. “You get hurt sometimes. And you don't act like a baby about it.”
March
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
NHL draft and Prospects Award Ceremony
Wally stood to the left of Kyle and the third best rookie, each of them holding up their jerseys. Wally forced himself to smile through holding up a number two. Fucking second place. Goddammit.
Kyle held up the number one, grinning widely. All that practice and all those late nights and all of the time he spent working out was worth it. He was the number one prospect of this year. And he'd been drafted to the Coast City Lanterns. He never really cared about teams, to be honest. He just wanted to play hockey.
After the photoshoot, Wally was speaking to the sponsor of the Central City Lightning Bolts, who was a big man with a pale, pudgy face and little glasses, and a bald head.
“We're very happy to have you on the team, West.”
“Thank you so much, sir. That means a lot coming from you.” He kept talking, but his eyes turned away. Boring conversation. He found Kyle in the crowd, talking to the Lanterns sponsor. He looked… handsome. The suit was a dark, dark green, and he didn't wear a tie. Just a white shirt underneath the blazer. It was… hot. He just kept staring. He didn't notice that his brows were furrowed, or his jaw was clenched.
Kyle noticed Wally staring at him, and tried not to make eye contact. He tried to keep his focus on the sponsor and not on the gorgeous man staring at him as if Kyle had murdered his puppy. But, God, it was a good look on him.
“We are so excited, Rayner, to have you on the team.”
“Huh?” Kyle blinked and turned back toward the sponsor. “Right! Yeah, thank you so, so much. I'm so excited to be here.”
“Good. Great. And, you know, it makes absolutely no difference to us, that you're Mexican.”
“What?” His attention was completely on the older man now.
“Mexican-American,” he corrected himself quickly.
“... Right… it makes no difference to you.”
After the real celebration was over, Kyle was leaning over the railing of the balcony. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he glanced backward.
Wally was behind him, making his way over. “You're on the Lanterns, then?”
“Yeah.” Kyle nodded. “And you're on the Lightning Bolts?”
Wally grinned. “Yeah. I am. I'm really happy about it.”
Kyle smiled softly. Wally's goofy little grin was so cute. Kind of boyish. Kyle spoke again. “Yeah? Your… who was it? Your dad? Your dad was on the team a few years ago?”
“No. Not my dad. I hate my dad.”
“Oh.”
“My uncle. Barry. He was on the Lightning Bolts, and he was the greatest. I used to go to all of the games—literally all of them—and I got to go to their practices, and I was the only person who got to go. And they let me skate with them, and go to some of their parties, and it was so much fun.”
Kyle smiled wider. “Yeah?” He leaned toward Wally just a little. There was a sparkle in those pretty green eyes, and those freckles under the moon were so… soft and gentle. His skin was so pale. Like snow. It was cute. Really cute.
“Yeah. You know, my uncle is… God, he's amazing. He won all kinds of awards, y'know.”
“Yeah, Barry Allen. Sheesh, that guy was famous-famous.”
“Yeah. Yeah, he was.”
“Hey, and, you know, I think I remember seeing you on TV a few times.”
“Yeah?” Wally smirked, ego shimmering in his chest. He kept his arrogant streak near his heart, right where it belonged.
“Yeah. Yeah, I had a crush on you.”
“‘Had’?” Wally huffed, grinning now as he tilted his body toward Kyle. “Please. You still do.”
Kyle grimaced and stuck out his tongue. “Please, you. I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
“Come on. I've heard you talking about me on camera. Little interviews—you always bring me up.” Wally took in a small breath, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms underneath his chest. Kyle stood like that all the time. In fact, he was standing like that right now. Odd, Kyle figured, that Wally would notice something like that. “‘West is a very good player,’” he said in a slightly lower voice, a little scratchier now—mocking him, that's what he was doing. “‘I've looked up to him for a long time, and I'm proud to be compared to him.’”
Kyle smirked, a dimple on his left side showing. “What did I say after that?”
Kyle was honestly just a damn rookie, even compared to the rookies. Even if it was impressive how quickly he’d gotten into the NHL, the man still got butterflies putting his gear on. Wally stopped getting those two years ago, at least. “Said you were excited to be in the same league as me so you could beat me.” Wally smiled at the memory of a slightly younger Kyle’s words.
“Well, I was right. I am beating you.”
“What?”
“I won today. Prospect Award.”
“Well, it was… bullshit.”
Kyle laughed. “You think it was bullshit? Man, you’re such a poor fucking loser.”
“I shouldn’t have lost to you.” Wally’s voice rose, and he stood straighter, using his hands aggressively as he spoke. “It’s… fucking nonsense. You show up late to games and doodle during practice—”
“Not during practice—”
“It’s the same thing. You’re… you’re inexperienced, and you’re lazy.”
“Well, then, how the fuck did I win over you, Mr. Perfect?”
Wally went to shoot back an insult, but found no words loaded or aimed. He hesitated. Then he growled softly and turned away, leaning over the balcony railings. His finger tapped on the metal as he took in a sharp breath.
“Yeah, go ahead and pout.” Kyle turned toward the door and started to leave.
In the morning, Kyle changed into his practice gear and started toward the ice. Surprise, surprise, Wally was already there. “Why the fuck are you following me around, West?”
“Huh?” The redhead turned around, frowning slightly. “What? I’m not following you. I didn’t know you would be here.”
“Right.” Kyle rolled his eyes, skating a wide semicircle toward the center.
Wally shot the puck toward Kyle, and Kyle tapped it left and right in front of him. He skidded to a gentle stop. “What are you doing?”
“Well, since you’re so much better than me, show me,” Wally shrugged, like it was obvious. He skated a wide circle around Kyle from where he stood in the center of the rink. “With no super skilled teammates to make up for all of your… many, many mistakes.”
“I don’t make ‘many, many mistakes’.”
Wally huffed, rolling his eyes with that big happy smile on his face he always wore. Kyle started skating again, quickly making for the southern goal. Wally followed behind, blades scraping against the ice. He was against him too soon to prepare for, and Wally smashed his shoulder against Kyle’s. The Lantern kept the puck with him, before cutting Wally’s movement off to the left and launching a backhand to the net.
If a goalie had been there, it might have been blocked. But there was no goalie there. The puck pulled the net backwards, making a goal.
“Good one, rookie.” Wally went to the net and slid the small cylinder back out with his stick, making his way back to the center.
Kyle followed. “You know, we’re both in our rookie season.”
“Yeah. But I’ve been playing since I was five. How long have you been playing?” They lined up at the center line, puck between them. Neither of them went for it yet.
“Since I was fifteen.”
“See? Rookie.” Wally swiped for the puck and took it, pushing it to the left wall. He turned and chased it, with Kyle chasing him. Wally shot into the goal from a quarter to, and the puck whooshed against the net.
Kyle went to get it. “That just means I’m better. I’m younger. I have less experience. But I’m better.”
“It just means you’re a teacher’s pet.”
“How?”
“Because. How can someone make as many mistakes as you do and still be a team captain? Still be the Prospect Award winner, five minutes late to practice? Slacking off on his workouts? How the hell does that happen without you being a kiss-ass?”
“You think I’m kissing ass to be where I am?”
“I’m certain of it.”
Kyle didn’t know exactly why that comment got to him so much. Maybe it was because it was close to the truth. He was late to practice or meetings frequently. He did slack off on workouts, skipping whenever he was having a bad day. He did make too many mistakes. But he was still team captain. He was still the Prospect Award winner. But he didn’t do it by kissing ass. It just… came natural to him. It just felt right. He was just good at it.
He didn’t really feel himself lunging forward when he did. He didn’t really notice they were wrestled on the ice before his fist collided with Wally’s face. His arm pulled back before he punched again. And again. After the third punch, Wally finally got a good grip on Kyle’s arms and pushed him off, climbing onto Kyle’s stomach with his knees on the ice around Kyle’s supine form. Wally’s fist launched into Kyle’s nose. The Lantern's vision blurred as his eyes filled with water as he tried, to no avail, to kick him off. Wally punched and punched until Kyle pulled him forward by his jersey, jamming his own forehead against Wally’s. Dazed, Wally’s fists stilled as his palm went to his forehead. Kyle used the moment of vulnerability to launch himself back onto Wally, pushing him back onto the ice with his legs straddled over Wally’s right thigh. Kyle started punching again. Wally tucked his head in. Pale, freckled fingers fumbled on the ice before they found a knocked-off helmet. He grabbed it and threw it into the side of Kyle’s head. Kyle fell off balance, and Wally pushed him further, slamming his back down onto the floor again, and he was back to punching. Blood was splattered across the white ice, making a beautifully violent contrast in color. Kyle’s hands bobbled on Wally’s shoulders before he managed to push the other man off. Kyle crawled on his stomach before stumbling to his feet, managing to skate to the wall and stand against it. He panted, watching Wally to be sure he wouldn’t have to run further away. But Wally stayed lying on his stomach, panting heavily as blood dripped off the tip of his nose as well as his lips and chin, forming into tiny puddles on the ice. His elbows and knees shakily held him up.
“I’m not…” Kyle panted, hands holding himself on his knees, “I’m not kissing ass… and I’m not a teacher’s pet…”
“Got it,” Wally mumbled, wiping his nostrils and sniffling blood as he slowly started to sit up. Those perfect freckles were smeared with red now. Wally looked over at Kyle. He glanced between his hips and his face. He was quiet for a while. “... Do you have a boner right now?”
“What?” Kyle looked down. His pants were slightly tented. His hand went to cover himself almost immediately. “No! Why are you even looking?”
Wally smirked. He let out a soft huff and rolled onto his back, flushed and still breathing heavily from the fight.
International Prospects Challenge
Paris, France
Wally sat on the bed with his arms irritated from his nails scratching and itching skin, watching the news reporters talk about him from his hotel in France.
“A poor night for Wally West. Clear shots that could have been made seemed to have been completely ignored. A bad day to have a bad day. The game made it to overtime all thanks to Kyle Ray—” Wally quickly shut the TV off, groaning as he ran his hands over his face. His phone started ringing. He picked it up. Wally groaned louder, lying back on the bed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I do not want to talk to you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, asshole.” He answered and put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad.”
“What the fuck was that?”
“What was what?” He knew what.
“You know what.”
“It was just a bad game, Dad.”
“The most important one for you yet, fucking moron.”
“Yeah, I fucking know.”
“Don't you dare curse at me. Just because you're a big shot now doesn't mean you're bigger than me. You never will be. Now, what the fuck happened?”
“The team just wasn't working right.”
“That's bullshit. You weren't working right. You're lucky you're halfway across the planet or I'd—”
Wally hung up. Fucking shit.
His dad called him back, and he didn't answer. An hour later, Wally was passed out on the floor with a nose bleed and white-powdered nostrils.
Freckled fingers traced over Kyle's abs and up to his chest, grabbing at muscles and massaging. Soft pink lips kissed his navel as curled auburn locks tickled his skin. Kyle moaned, his hand moving into that perfect hair with his fingers gently moving over his scalp. They kissed at his inner thigh now, then exactly where he needed. A louder moan left his throat, and he grabbed those red curls, guiding that perfect mouth to move in that perfect way. The pale, freckled hand kept massaging and grabbing at his muscles. Kyle held that hand.
“Good job,” he whispered, his other hand still guiding beautiful hair. “That's so good, West.”
The mouth left him, and finally, he saw those pretty green eyes and that pretty freckled face and those perfectly spit-covered pink lips, and he came right then and there. And at the same time, Kyle woke up.
February
New York City, New York, USA
Wally sat down behind the microphone, smoothing his shirt down over his front. Kyle sat beside him. Wally smirked, unaware of the images Kyle had dreamed, then rushed to draw with neither hand free, even though he had only needed one to hold the pencil.
Kyle smirked back, though it was shaky. He adjusted the microphone in front of his mouth and took a slow breath. The reporters were flashing photos in front of them, and Wally flashed a perfect grin.
“West! West! Question: how does it feel to have won last week's game against the Lanterns, knowing that so many had expected the downfall of the Lightning Bolts coming this season with the rivalry between yourself and Rayner?”
Wally leaned closer to the microphone, inhaling. “It feels… like karma.” A few people laughed softly, and Kyle rolled his eyes slightly. “Some fans suck at loyalty, and it shows. But I'm very happy with the win, and with our team. I think we did… a very good job. And to elaborate on our ‘rivalry’: Rayner doesn't even get to be my rival. Alright? He's a baby. He's barely even out of high school.”
“But I still make you put in that extra mile and the extra rep when you remember me kicking your ass in the rink.” Kyle's lips brushed against the microphone, eyes on Wally.
Wally looked at him, gaze flicking between brown eyes to pretty, still-cut-and-bruised lips. Then back to eyes. Wally huffed. “For you? That's silly. You've still got baby fat on your cheeks.”
“Stop coming at my age, man, you're only two years older than me.”
Wally rolled his eyes and turned back to the crowd, nodding his chin at the reporter.
“This being your rookie season—both of you—you've both done phenomenally. West with 21 goals and Rayner with 19. Rayner, what's your goal for the season, now that we're halfway through the season?”
“I'd like to get to 35 before the end of the playing year.”
“And West?”
“36 sounds good to me.”
The crowd laughed.
“What about the rumor that you and Rayner got into a physical fight?”
“True,” they both said at the same time.
A bunch of reporters either zoomed their cameras in or scribbled in their little notebooks.
“Excuse me, can you elaborate? Why did the fight begin?”
Kyle shrugged. “Eh. We were mad. I punched him.”
“When was this? It wasn't during a game.”
“No,” Wally said, “it was during a little practice challenge. We were doing a 1-v-1 together on the rink. I was talking shit, and we got mad at each other.”
“Is this why your nose is broken, Rayner?”
“Yes.”
“And, West, this is why you're bruised and with those small stitches?”
“Yes.”
The reporters ate it up. “When you say you were ‘talking shit,” what were you saying, West?”
Wally was quiet for a moment. He leaned back into the microphone. “No comment.” Kyle noticed that, appreciating his secrecy.
They scribbled again.
“Any other questions, not about the fight?” Wally sighed, scratching under his eye.
“What about your being on the same team for the upcoming Olympic events? Any comments?”
“It's going to be… interesting,” Kyle added, sighing softly.
“It's going to suck.”
The crowd laughed again.
“No, I'm not kidding; I'm going to have to see this ugly mug in the locker room every day.” Wally had reached over now, gripping Kyle's lower face so his lips pressed together in a fish kiss, cheeks forced into a hollow. Kyle didn't even stop him. Wally put his hand back down.
“And Kyle? Your feelings?”
“I guess I don't have any right now, other than it's gonna be hard to get used to.”
“Very.” Wally leaned back in his chair.
“Oh. Hey. Look at that.” Wally turned in his seat to face Kyle, hands finding his bow tie. It was askew and uneven. “Who did this?” His fingers untied the fabric before starting to redo the knot completely.
Kyle watched his fingers, the ones he dreamed of, and he flushed slightly. He cleared his throat. “Um… me?”
“Shoddy work, mister.” The cameras flashed and flashed, the room almost uncomfortably attentive to them now. “It's like this. Yeah? There you go.” Wally patted Kyle's chest as he finished up before pulling back.
Kyle found Wally in the hall right after. He shoved him lightly against the wall. “What the fuck was that, West? Trying to get all cuddly with me on national television?”
“What? Your tie wasn't right.”
“You're a fucking moron. Don't touch me like that. Especially not in front of the camera.”
Wally smirked. “How else should I touch you? And where?”
Kyle paused for a moment, looking over Wally's face. In his dreams, he would fuck it. Touch it and feel him. Feel his mouth and his perfect lips. The warmth. And he wanted the same thing in reality. Kyle's jaw clenched, and he let out an exhaling groan and whispered, “How do you want to touch me?”
Wally blinked, smirk fading away as he looked just barely up at him with wide eyes. “... What? I… I don't know.”
“How do you want me to touch you?”
Wally glanced around the hall, relieved to see no one else there. He pushed off the wall and stepped closer to Kyle. Wally spoke after a long moment of quiet, staring at Kyle's deep green eyes, and the warm color of his skin. “Should I want you to touch me?”
Kyle nodded without thinking. He swallowed, his eyes never leaving Wally's face. They were both quiet for a while. Wally struggled to find the best response, and Kyle struggled to keep himself from making those late-night wonderments a reality. He spoke again. “If I come knock on your door tonight… would you let me in?”
“... Maybe.”
“What number?”
“... 1236.”
Kyle nodded, inhaling shakily. “Okay. Good. Maybe I'll knock.”
Wally waited in his hotel room for the rest of the night. He barely stopped himself from taking a shot of coke, knowing that if he and Rayner ended up fucking while he was stuffed up with powder, he'd probably forget all about it. And Wally would prefer to remember every detail. His leg bounced, and his teeth and fingers picked at the loose skin on his lips, antsy enough sober. He couldn’t stop imagining how this would go. He couldn't help but wonder if Kyle's lips were as soft as they looked. Or if his hands would be as warm and rough as he expected them to be. Or if his hair would be soft or not.
There was a knock on the door.
Wally stood up on slightly shaky legs and started toward the sound. He checked the peephole and saw Kyle. He swallowed and stepped back, smoothing his shirt. He turned the knob and swung it open. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Um… you came.” Wally moved aside and let Kyle in.
“Yeah. I did.” Kyle stepped inside and started to peel his jacket off. He set it down on the entryway table. He sighed and rubbed his face aggressively. "I’m… this is just such a bad idea. Someone’s gonna find out.”
“No one’s gonna find out.”
“You’re not gonna tell anyone? Right?”
“What? Why would I tell anyone?”
Kyle huffed softly. “Alright, alright.”
Wally took a shaky breath, nodding his head. He didn’t want to tell Kyle he was nervous, too. This really was a bad idea. Terrible, really. He leaned forward, his hands going to Kyle's waist and to feel over his ribcage. He let the tips of their noses brush together, and their exhales share the small space between their lips. Wally closed his eyes again and slid his tongue over his top lip before slowly slotting his mouth with Kyle's.
Kyle hummed, body and mind quickly agreeing with the kiss and the touch of Wally's hands on his body. His right hand moved to Wally's face, while the other tightened on his hip bone.
When Wally detached his lips with a shaky intake of air, Kyle nuzzled his nose against the underside of his freckled jaw and placed soft kisses on the skin down to his collar. Wally let out a low sound that vibrated against the top of Kyle's head. Kyle's hands moved down, fingers starting to push the hem of his shorts and boxers down. A little whimper left Wally’s throat, and his fists tightened around cotton cloth. Kyle slid the pants down and started to lower himself onto his knees, forehead against Wally’s hip. He hummed, brushing his lips against his navel and the skin surrounding. Wally sighed, hands now comfortably buried in Kyle’s hair. His hips rubbed against Kyle’s mouth as it curled into a soft smirk.
Lips and tongue teased and played until finally enveloping him in heat and wet. Wally moaned, his head tilting back against the door and his fingers tightening to hold dark locks in tense fists. Kyle’s mouth felt perfect. He moved his hands, grabbing his shirt and pulling it up and over his head. His skin was flushed, especially around his chest and stomach.
Kyle looked up, dark honey eyes shining up at him.
“God, that’s a pretty look for you,” Wally whispered, hand going down to cup the side of his face as the other went back into his hair. “Keep doing that… with your mouth, Rayner.”
Kyle nodded faintly and continued on exactly how he had been. His hand slid up Wally’s front, feeling his abs and ribs, then moving back down to push the fabric on his thighs all the way down onto the floor. With the space freed, Kyle brought his hand backward to hold and squeeze at the curve of Wally’s ass.
Wally moaned again, eyes closing as his head tilted backward, throat exposed and chin raised. Kyle’s head kept bobbing as he gagged softly. Wally watched him beneath fluttering, brown lashes. His hips rocked and ground into Kyle's mouth. His hands gripped his hair slightly harder almost every second, until he knew he would come soon. He pulled Kyle off by his hair he watched the saliva string from his tip to Kyle's lips. God, that was hot. Kyle looked up at him with beautifully adorable puppy eyes, mouth wide open and tongue out. Wally's hand pretended to be Kyle's lips until, with a long groan and a few panting whimpers, Wally let himself go onto Kyle's tongue.
Kyle swallowed and leaned forward to press kisses along Wally's hip and upper-inner thigh until Wally tugged at his hair again. He stood and craned his head downward to kiss Wally's neck and jaw. "So pretty... my turn...?"
Wally nodded, swallowing and whining even at the simple kisses. He followed Kyle, walking over to the bed and guiding those pretty legs open as he knelt between them. “Your turn.” He leaned down and kissed the nerve that connected his thigh and groin before letting his lips move further in.
Kyle gasped, eyes wide as they stare down at Wally. He foolishly hadn't expected Wally 'The Speedster' West to get on with it so quickly. Oh, but it was certainly not an unwelcome surprise. Kyle groaned and whined, sighing shakily as he lay his head back. His eyes hooded instead of stayed wide, wanting to close them and focus on the sensation, but giving more attention to the lovely sight Wally was giving him. An exceptionally beautiful man, naked, lying between his legs, sucking him off so damn aggressively. Moaning, Kyle brought his hand to the coarse curls, gripped tightly and gave only a moment's notice to the loud keen it earned him as he instead placed his concentration on his own hips pulling and pushing into that mouth. Wally gasped softly, keeping his hands on Kyle's hips and thighs as he gagged and licked on Kyle's skin. He glanced up at Kyle as the taller man fucked his mouth, and he heard a whiny groan as Kyle chewed his lip. When he let it go, he whispered rambles to Wally: "God, you're so pretty. Good job, you're doing so good. Good... ngh... perfect mouth, so fucking perfect," and Wally's stomach flipped and fluttered as he worried he would have to come again after Kyle was done, even if it were just into his own hand. And it didn't take long for Kyle to be done. Not long at all. He let Kyle come in his mouth, then pressed his forehead against Kyle's thigh.
When Kyle left with the excuse of an early flight that upcoming morning, Wally snorted a pinch and masturbated twice, then fell asleep.
March
Coast City, California, USA
Post-All-Star Game
“An extremely impressive win for the Green Lanterns at a score of 5-4, an amazing game to watch between Coast City and Central City. Impressive work for both teams and their players, especially rookie sensations Wallace West and Kyle Rayner.”
In the rink as the game was over, Kyle sat on the end of the bench beside Guy Gardner, who was gloating obnoxiously loudly to one of the other teammates.
Wally was on the end of their team’s bench. He leaned over toward him. “Hey, good job tonight. It was a good game.”
Kyle turned to face him. “What? You’re congratulating me?”
“Shut up,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes and scoffing. But he had a soft smile on his face. “What are you doing tonight? Going out to celebrate with your team?”
“I could.”
“Or you could get laid.”
Kyle’s eyes widened, and he glanced to see who had heard that. Nobody, thank God. He turned back to Wally. “Jesus, West, shut up.”
“Come on. Nobody was listening. And nobody’s gonna know who’s laying you.”
“They are if you’re going to keep saying it like that.”
Wally smiled softly. “Well.” He sighed and started to stand up, leaving the bench. “I’m going to bed early.” He skated past the team, mumbling the numbers 1186 only for Kyle to hear.
Kyle glanced around again, sucking in his teeth.
“What was that about?” Guy butted in, nudging Kyle with his arm.
“Huh?”
“That. With West.”
“Oh. Just, um… you know, shit-talking.”
Guy sighed, rolling his eyes and leaning back in the seat. “Man, those Lightning guys are assholes. West, especially. I’m so pissed I have to sleep in the room right next to his. But, hey, maybe it’s a golden opportunity, y’know? I could bring a girl back and just be super loud all night—make sure he doesn’t get any sleep at all. Huh? You think I should?”
Kyle blinked. The room right next to Wally’s? Fuck. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, fuck with him, man. Maybe it will throw him off his game.”
“Not that he has any.”
Wally walked up to the door when he heard the knock. He opened it. Kyle pushed inside quickly, practically slamming the door behind him.
“Woah, what the fuck?”
“Guy Gardner is in the room right beside yours.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, I don't want him to see me standing outside your door.”
“Alright, alright, take your shirt off.” Wally already started pulling Kyle's shirt over his head.
“Ay, yi, yi, West, you hungry?” Kyle helped him take the shirt off, tossing it to the floor. He stepped closer and slid his hands beneath Wally’s, pulling the shirt up and off.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Wally placed his hands on Kyle’s waist, leaning forward and planting kisses all down Kyle’s neck and to his collar.
“Jesus,” Kyle whispered, his hand moving up to hold Wally’s arm as he let his head tip backwards, sighing softly.
“I don’t think he’ll be able to save you after tonight.”
Kyle laughed, looking down at Wally now with a soft smile. “Why, what are you planning on doing?”
Wally hummed with faux thought, lips pouting. “Probably a twenty-plus person fuck, passing you around.” Wally smiled as he watched Kyle laugh again. “And you’re hogtied, probably. And we make you say stuff like ‘I’m a dirty little pig,’ and you’re all crying, and—”
Kyle put his hand over Wally’s mouth, still chuckling. “Alright, alright, shut up.”
Wally smiled against his palm, leaning closer as his hands squeezed Kyle’s waist.
“Ew, are you fucking licking me?” Kyle retracted his hand quickly, wiping it on his pants. “That’s disgusting!”
Wally laughed, leaning in and kissing him. Kyle kissed him back. Wally’s hands moved down to Kyle’s shorts, pushing them down and off.
They stumbled back toward the bed, and Kyle got Wally’s pants off. He crawled between Wally's legs and kissed along the freckles of his inner thighs. Wally moaned, and Kyle licked pale skin before biting softly. Then he went back to kissing. Wally's hand slid onto the back of his head, guiding him to do exactly what he wanted exactly where he wanted.
He lasted longer than he did last time. But not by much.
Wally pulled Kyle back up by his hair, panting softly as he pressed his lips against Kyle’s. “Please,” he whispered, and his eyes widened at the sound of his voice that sounded way too desperate, and way too whiny.
Kyle’s eyes widened, too, and he stared down at him. He laughed. “What the hell was that?”
Wally flushed slightly, chuckling awkwardly as he ducked his head down. “Just… please shut the hell up, Rayner.”
“Oh, is that what you were asking for? For me to shut up?” This was the cockiest Wally had ever seen Kyle. “It sounded like you were begging me to… to touch you, and make you feel good,” he whispered against his ear, and Wally could feel the smirk on his skin.
He smiled. He laughed and nodded. “Well, I do want that,” Wally whispered, turning his head to kiss Kyle’s neck and face. “Please…?” He whined again, pouting his lips and whimpering as he nuzzled his face into Kyle’s collar.
Kyle moaned, sighing. “God… that sounds good.”
“Please touch me?”
“Okay. Okay, I will.” He moved back down to keep kissing and chewing on the skin of Wally’s hips and thighs. He pulled back, and he started to get himself and Wally ready. “Get on your stomach, then, West.”
Wally blinked, looking up at him. “Huh?”
“Get on your stomach.”
Wally hesitated for a moment, then blurted his first stupid reaction. “Uh… no?”
Kyle looked him over, blinking. “...What? What do you mean, ‘no’?” He wasn’t angry or conniving, just genuinely confused and thrown-off.
“Uh-... I… I just mean…” Wally paused, licking his lips and sighing as he wondered. “I just meant for… you know, the… same kinda stuff we had been doing.”
“... So you don’t want me to fuck you?”
Wally seemed confused or conflicted as his brows furrowed and a strong huff left his nose, as if he’d forgotten he had been holding all that air in. “... No?” He saw Kyle’s face furrow in slight confusion, and maybe slight hurt, and he quickly decided to elaborate. “I mean, like, not right now. I definitely… well, I mean, I want… that… I want that at some point, for sure. I… well… ‘definitely,’ I don’t… I…” He shook his head as if to physically cast away his own discordant stumbling and stuttering. “Yes, I’d like for you to fuck me at some point, but I… just not right now.”
Kyle nodded, equal parts relieved by Wally’s clarification, confused by his halting manner of getting it out, and endeared by the rambling. “So when do you think you’ll be ready?”
“... I don’t know. Maybe… well, let’s meet up after next game, and we’ll… see how it goes?”
Kyle nodded. A good plan. Their next game was in a month, in Central City, and by then, Wally could decide if he was ready for the full deal or not. “So where would we meet?”
“What do you mean?”
“Where are we gonna meet? My hotel room?”
“No. We're gonna meet at my apartment, dumbass.”
“Your apartment?”
“Yeah? We're going to Central City—where I live. So we're going to have sex in my house, where I live.”
“That… I mean… are you sure?” That felt too real to Kyle. If he went to Wally’s house, he’s afraid he would learn things about him. And he was afraid he would like those things. He was really afraid that he already liked what he already learned.
“Yeah. Of course, I’m sure. Why would I go to your hotel room when I could just have sex in my own bed?”
“Yeah. Yeah, alright.” Kyle nodded, swallowing.
“Why are you freaking out?”
“I'm not freaking out.”
“You are. You're literally having a panic attack. Look at me.” Wally tapped Kyle's chin with two fingers. “It's just sex. It doesn't matter where we are, Rayner. It's just… fucking. Okay?”
“Okay.” Kyle nodded, swallowing.
Wally sighed softly before pinching his lips together by his cheeks. “How does that book go? In… ‘on a train, in the rain, here or there, anywhere… on a boat, in a car, in a house’...?”
“Shut the hell up,” Kyle mumbled, voice muffled as his lips stayed pressed in a pucker. “Is that Green Eggs and Ham?”
“Yeah, yeah, that one.” Wally smiled, letting Kyle's face go.
Kyle massaged his face lightly, flexing and opening his jaw. “So, where's your house?”
Wally started to sit back up, pushing Kyle to flop down naked on the bed. “I'll text you my address.”
Kyle blinked, brows furrowing slightly as he watched Wally put his boxers and pants back on. “Text me?”
“Yeah, put your number in here.” After buttoning his pants back up, Wally took his phone from his pocket and handed it to Kyle.
Kyle stared at it for a second, holding it in his hand. He slowly typed in his number, glancing up at Wally. “What should I put my name as?”
“Um…” Wally sighed, walking over to grab Kyle's clothes from the entryway and bring them back. “Do… Katy. I think you would be a Katy.”
“Oh, short for Katherine, or Kaitlyn, or what?”
“Mm, probably Kaitlyn.” Wally smiled. “And when you put my name in, put me as Emma.”
Kyle smiled. He chuckled softly as he took his clothes from “Alright, Emma.”
Two weeks went by fast. Wally was sitting at home the night before the game. The only thing on his mind was Kyle. Those eyes kept flashing through his head. The way the light reflected off of them was unlike anything he'd ever seen. That dimple on just the left side of his face, and the way he spoke. A scratchy voice that didn't hesitate, but so often thought through his words before they were out of his mouth.
“Mr. Rayner… perfect boy, perfect boy…”
He wondered if Kyle thought about him this way.
He got a text. From Katy. It read: ‘Hey, flight’s canceled. Lots of lightning, they said. So the game's out, too’
Wally hummed, sighing. He chewed on the pillow he held in his arms. He started typing. ‘Awww I was excited to crack you open’ He didn't think before he sent it.
‘That's disgusting’
‘Like a damn walnut’
‘Okay, well, now I'm glad the flight's canceled.’
Wally smirked and started typing, ‘Don't say that, Katy,’ along with a pouting emoji.
April
Rookie of the Year Award
Kyle was standing on the balcony, leaning over the railing. His jaw was clenched tight, teeth about to crack.
At the same time, Wally was downing shot after the other, swallowing what was basically rubbing alcohol. There was a fat grin on his face, and his eyes were unfocused and stupid. His friends surrounded him, cheering and happy.
Soon enough, Wally found himself on the same balcony, swaying a bit. “Rayner!” He made it over to him, wrapping his arms around Kyle’s waist and pressing his face into the hard muscle of Kyle’s shoulder blade.
“What are you doing?” Kyle gently nudged him off and away. “Why aren’t you celebrating?”
“I was. I’m just looking for you.” His nose nuzzled the ball of Kyle’s shoulder before he stepped away.
Kyle paused for a second. “… Why?”
Wally’s pretty green eyes pouted up at him. “Because… I couldn’t find you inside. Are you pissed?”
Kyle scoffed. “Of course, I’m pissed.”
“Because I won?” Wally crossed his arms over the metal railing, leaning over and resting his chin on his forearms. “You thought you would win because you’re younger and more… what do they call you? ‘Unpredictable’? You thought you were better. Boo-hoo. You win everything else, and now I win this one thing and you think it’s okay to—“
“Just shut the fuck up.”
“No, you need to fucking listen.” Wally stood, swayed, and pushed his finger into the center of Kyle’s chest, those pretty eyes showing a new, exciting anger now. “I won. You need to stop being a fucking pussy baby and get used to not being perfect, like your mommy always said you were. Because you’re not. And your mommy was wrong.”
Kyle’s teeth clenched further, and he grabbed Wally’s hand. “Don’t talk about my goddamn mom.”
Wally pulled Kyle forward and grabbed him by the side of his neck and the hair on the back of his head, kissing him hard enough to hurt even himself. He expected Kyle to push him off, but Kyle instead gripped Wally’s blazer so hard his knuckles went white. And he kissed him back in a mess of lips and tongue and teeth.
Only then did Kyle finally push Wally off. “What the fuck are you doing? We’re in public,” he growled, stepping away and running his fingers through his hair.
“Mr. Fucking Rayner, I need some congratulations sex. Suck my dick, please.”
Kyle huffed and rolled his eyes, turning away. “No. Fuck you. I’m not giving you anything.”
“Such a sore fucking loser. Goddamn it.” Wally watched Kyle walk away, scrubbing his hands over his face.